


You Make Loving Fun, Never Knew It Could Be

by cafephan



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Fluff, Reality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-22
Updated: 2017-10-22
Packaged: 2019-01-21 09:57:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12455028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cafephan/pseuds/cafephan
Summary: A little insight into the (fluffy) home lives of Dan and Phil.





	You Make Loving Fun, Never Knew It Could Be

It’s potentially the early mornings he likes the best.

It’s a common misconception, one they push so much themselves to anyone that asks, that they wake up nearing midday. But it simply isn’t the case, because Dan likes to sit on the balcony and listen to the birds and enjoy the tranquillity whilst the city is still sleeping, and Phil likes to watch the sun rise over the towering buildings with a steaming mug of coffee in his hands and glasses askew. But most of all, he likes watching Dan over the rim over his coffee cup, sunlight casting against the brunet’s skin as he looks out at the landscape, deep in thought.

But even before that, that’s the part he likes best.

When they’re laid together, skin to skin, maybe with an arm around the other’s waist or sometimes even a leg strewn over the other, he wouldn’t change it for the world.

Some days, the paranoia sets in for Phil, that Dan will wake up one day and just regret it all. That he’ll get up and leave, never to return. Some mornings it’s all that dominates Phil’s mind as he waits for Dan to wake up beside him (their sleep schedules are, by this point, almost identical, but Phil somehow always wakes up a few minutes before). But every day without fail, when Dan wakes up, when his eyes land on the man beside him, his lips always curl into a smile. It’s as much as an instinct for him as it is to breathe or laugh or cry, an instinct honed over eight years of pure adoration, and it rids of Phil’s fears like a dandelion clock on a particularly blustery morning.

And other days it’s Dan who harbours the negative thoughts that sometimes plague his mind and torture it with no remorse. Some nights he involuntarily dreams about scenarios of which are more nightmares, dreams of waking up to an otherwise empty duplex and subsequently missing half a heart. The healthy dependency has built up over eight years of solid friendship, an even more solid relationship, and a little of something else that nobody, Dan and Phil included, has ever been able to identify. Some say because it’s never been seen before, Dan has always been inclined to agree. But when he wakes up to Phil’s smiling face, any fears he was previously holding are replaced with clichés, because more often than not (other than when Dan wakes up first, once in a blue moon) Phil is already looking back at him, like Dan puts the stars in the sky and the sun in his day, that his day just wouldn’t be complete without this moment. It should be somewhat weird or even creepy, having someone already watching you as you wake up, he knows, but even on that second day waking up in October 2009, it never made Dan feel anything short of blissfully content.

And when they kiss, a quick and soft meeting of lips, it leaves them both with a warm feeling in their stomachs, one that they know will carry them happily through the rest of the day, only fuelled by any and every other kiss they share. They’ve never been the kind of couple to show affection purely through kisses, they’ve never seen the urgency, nor have they ever had the conversation of ‘what are we?’

He chuckles at it sometimes, the fact that they could still technically be in the denial stage, the stage of questioning whether it’s safe to call the other person your own, or what to even call them at all. When his grandparents once questioned him about it in the early days, he brushed off the question with a shrug and a smile. Because the question is just as alien to them as it is to everyone else.

Because “This is Dan” and “This is Phil” have always carried the same weight as if they were to tag _… my boyfriend_ on the end of it. Because it’s always been the case of _they_ know, and if anyone were too oblivious to see, maybe it was for the best that they didn’t. Though it has always made the ‘relationship status’ or ‘what is your relationship to this person’ sections on various forms and legal documents rather interesting.

This isn’t to say he doesn’t enjoy the evening times, because of course he does.

When the day has taken its toll on them, and they have little effort to do more than collapse on the sofa in front of reruns of something or other, two glasses of Ribena on the coffee table and an almost overflowing bowl of popcorn balanced unevenly on Phil’s legs, as Dan is curled into his chest, and Phil has an arm draped lazily around his waist.

And when the bowl inevitably topples over, and Phil swears as Dan bursts into laughter with an ‘I told you so’, Phil begins picking up single pieces of popcorn and dropping them on Dan’s head, only the first few go unnoticed as they nestle securely in his untamed curls. But it’s always the fourth one, Phil’s found, that trips him up. His aim goes, and the popcorn falls onto Dan’s forehead, and he runs a hand through his hair and sighs as the rest fall onto the floor. He cranes his head up to meet Phil’s gaze, and pouts. Phil grins, and leans down to kiss the pout away. Dan rolls his eyes playfully and picks up the still upside-down bowl and rests it on the coffee table with the promise that next time they’ll leave it there to avoid this happening again, but they never do. It’s as routine as Dan’s leg cramping and as he swings it around to rest it on the floor, knocks over a glass of Ribena in the process, during which time it’s Phil’s turn to burst into laughter, and Dan’s turn to swear. And as Dan trudges to retrieve the kitchen roll, Phil calls after him saying that next time they’ll just have water to avoid this happening again, but they never do.

It’s as routine as them falling asleep in front of the TV, and when Phil’s eyes flutter open, still very much half-asleep, he nudges Dan and suggests that maybe they go to bed, and Dan shakes his head and turns over, and takes Phil’s hand in his own and begins playing with his fingers until he’s fast asleep again. And then Phil smiles and settles back down himself, he’ll make them go in just a few more minutes.

He never thought he’d feel like this, he never thought he’d deserve to feel like this. He’d once thought love was kept to movies and TV shows, and the reality was nothing more than one-night stands and late-night booty calls. It was more luck than judgement, he’d thought, thought that if he could barely hold down a friend in his younger years, there was no chance of meeting someone special in his older years.

And fuck, he’d never been happier to have been proved wrong.

Because _this_ is love, he’s still living it near enough eight years on, he’d known there was something special from that very first day, that very first hug in the train station, that very first kiss on the Eye. It had scared him at the time, left a fiery feeling in his stomach along with the butterflies, soothed only when their hands brushed or their lips touched. And the fact that a single glance from him still does the same thing just made sure in his mind that he was still falling deeper in love every day. He was a walking cliché, but _they_ were a walking cliché. And it was something they privately adored, and wouldn’t change at all.

Who is he, you might ask? He’s someone who wants everyone to know that he’s in love, and it’s beautiful, and everything he’s ever wanted.

And who is he? He’s someone who has everything he’s ever wanted, and can’t thank the universe enough times for it, and savours every second of every day beside the man he loves.

But it’s Dan _and_ Phil, right?

Two halves of a nearly-functioning human being. Two people that found each other under the most obscure of circumstances. Two hearts, one home.

**Author's Note:**

> twitter; @bloggerhowell
> 
> title is from 'Seeing Blind' by Niall Horan & Maren Morris


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